


A Dream of Dark Scenes

by Chrysaora



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dreamscapes, Exchange Assignment, Explicit Sexual Content, Frame Narrative, Horror, M/M, Nonconathan 2019, Psychological Grooming, Seduction to the Dark Side, Supreme Creeper Snoke, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:15:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrysaora/pseuds/Chrysaora
Summary: Luke reaches into Ben Solo’s sleeping mind and is horrified to learn the extent of Snoke’s dark seduction.





	A Dream of Dark Scenes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Omnicat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnicat/gifts).



Luke Skywalker gazed down upon his nephew Ben Solo.

No longer a boy but not yet a man, he thought wistfully. Why, it seemed only yesterday that Leia had held out her infant son to him to cradle in his arms!

Tonight was not like all other nights. This night he had come into Ben’s chambers to stand watch over him because he’d sensed a terrible danger.

The Force pulsed with it, and it was centered on Ben.

Yet his nephew dreamed, his face appearing smooth, untroubled. Luke closed his eyes, reached out, and slipped into Ben’s sleeping mind, to share in whatever visions might be playing out behind his eyelids…

 

…some glittering Galactic Senate function or other in Hanna City, Chandrila, where politicians sip bubbly wine from long-stemmed, cut-glass flutes and rub elbows with plutocrats and celebrities.

Princess Leia Organa is among friends, and she’s just getting started for the evening, but her son, present only under duress, is already bored out of his skull. Oh, how he wishes he were home in bed and reading a book! He’s just started a thick tome about use of the Force preceding the establishment of the Jedi Order, in fact, and it’s excellent so far. He’d really like to get back to it.

Their eyes meet across the crowded ballroom. The man’s skin and hair are milky white, and he is tall, so tall. He wears a cloth-of-gold robe and a crimson shimmersilk cloak.

When he makes his approach, the laughing, chattering throngs of people seem to part like obedient water around him. He moves so gracefully that he seems to glide. Closer now, and closer. He wears orange fire opals in his ears and on the rings around his fingers, and his eyes are the piercing sky blue of a perfect summer’s day.

“Ben Solo, I presume?” the man says as he crouches down so that their faces are level. He smiles. “Your reputation precedes you. I’ve heard so much about you. What a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

He knows Ben’s name! He knows who Ben is! Home and bed and book forgotten, Ben gazes upon the smooth, symmetrical face of this remarkable man and thinks he has never met anyone more exquisitely handsome. He is captivated…

 

…a centuries-old sandstone villa with a commanding view of wildflower-filled glades and roaring waterfalls in the Lake Country of Naboo.

The architecture is stately, magnificent, and for the week, at least, they have it all to themselves.

“I’m in here,” a warm, aristocratic voice calls out. “Come and join me.”

Ben quickens his steps down the stairs. He’s just finished his afternoon bath, and his hair is still slightly damp. He smooths the locks down over his ears self-consciously; he’s always been embarrassed by how much they stick out, and now, more than ever, he wants to look his best.

His companion is reclining on a divan in the solar. A low table piled high and groaning with finger foods is positioned close by for nibbling.

“Please, Ben. Be seated. Eat.”

But there isn’t much room. Should he sit so close to his companion? Ben does his best perching on the edge of the divan cushion and picks up a sweetmeat from the table at random. It’s a dried shuura fruit glazed with evergreen honey and rolled in crushed spicenuts. He pops it into his mouth. Fragrant and delicious. Like autumn, if autumn had a taste. Ben hums softly with pleasure.

“I thought it important to share this place with you. It was very special to your grandfather. This is where he fell in love.”

No one has ever told Ben this story before. Why not? His companion simply smiles at Ben’s expression of surprise and leans back into the cushions, contented and relaxing. His long hair is unbound; his cloth-of-gold robe is loose, open at the neck. Ben stares, captivated, at the milky skin which is revealed, the graceful sweep of the collarbone.

So close. Ben leans in. Together, they share their first, ardent kiss…

 

…the throne room on the _Supremacy_ , red, red as blood, red everywhere one might choose to look.

Except where he kneels, directly in front of him. The cock is thick and alabaster and veined in blue, standing proudly, awaiting his attentions. Ben grasps it with one hand and guides it to his lips, takes it into his mouth, and tongues the foreskin back from the glans expertly. It weeps profusely, the sweet-salt flavor sharp as it slips down his throat. He must prepare it well for what comes next.

Soon, they are ready. Ben falls in slow motion, onto his back, legs spread wide, and his lover follows, guiding himself inside Ben as he goes. He is long, and he is thick, and the burning slide of entry seems to last an eternity.

But then he begins to thrust, and Ben forgets all about eternity. There is only the now, the stretch, the friction, the almost unendurable ecstasy. Ben wraps his thighs around his lover’s waist, ankles crossed and locked. He lifts his hips in tandem with that fast, powerful rhythm; he scratches livid crimson lines with his fingernails down his lover’s pale shoulders.

Their pace accelerates further, and Ben is shuddering. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes, but he keeps them open, fixed upon his lover’s handsome face. He is so close, so close to orgasm, as of yet wholly untouched—

“My Master!” Ben cries. “Snoke!”

That handsome, _beloved_ face above him seems to crumple in on itself; it withers. Decays. A monster is embracing him, clutching him in its grasp, filling him with its seed, and Kylo Ren roars with fear, and he struggles, he refuses, but he cannot escape, for the monster has already claimed him as its own, and it’s too late, too late, _much too late_ …

 

…and Luke threw himself out of the dream, recoiling instinctively from the obscene darkness he had just witnessed within his nephew’s sleeping mind.

That darkness had been there for years, festering unrecognized, and soon it would grow and grow until it had expanded to enshroud the entire galaxy in horrific death and destruction.

For a moment, the briefest of moments, Luke thought that maybe he could stop it. End it all now before it began. He drew his lightsaber and ignited it…

No. He couldn’t. This was his sister’s child. Luke loved him.

But by then, Ben’s eyes had opened, and he was reaching out to the Force to defend himself, _to attack_ , and it was too late, too late, _much too late_.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> (1) Translation into Russian by Izverg [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9289951).
> 
> (2) Posted to the exchange on June 24, 2019.


End file.
